On the training field of the sect, all disciples were gathered once again for their daily Qi absorption session, led by the ever-id-back Elder Ji. As usual, he began the morning with a zy expnation of techniques while reclining under a tree. However, this time, Han Ye was notably separated from the others—not just because he had already broken through to Arc II: Inner Expansion, but for another reason that only the sect elders knew: the strange phenomenon that had begun to manifest around him.

  Strapped to Han Ye’s side was the cursed book—the source of his recent troubles. Fortunately, it looked harmless enough. Small, only 15cm by 10cm with a thickness of about 2cm. But the moment he flipped it open (yet again), the pages expanded beyond that size—unnaturally so. It wasn’t just a book anymore; it was a weight of knowledge pressing against his very soul. And despite spending hours with it, he hadn’t even finished Chapter One.

  “Ugh… my whole body aches,” Han Ye muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why did I read that book again? I should’ve resisted the temptation. I haven’t even finished the first chapter that only expins… uh… wait, what was the name again?” He shook his head in frustration, still dizzy from st night’s binge reading.

  “Han Ye, what happened to you?” asked his friends, Lan Ji and Xue Lian, as they approached him with concern in their eyes.

  “Ah… I broke through to Arc II: Inner Expansion without much preparation, so my body’s still adjusting,” he lied smoothly, his exhausted gaze selling the story.

  “Wait, what? That fast?! When did you even practice Qi absorption?” Lan Ji asked, eyes wide.

  “I think… it hasn’t even been a full month yet.”

  Lan Ji and Xue Lian exchanged gnces, disbelief clear in their expressions. Then Xue Lian blinked and said, “So this is what a genius looks like, huh? You just joined the sect and—”

  “—Arc I: Pseudo-Foundation,” Han Ye corrected her.

  “Right, Arc I: Pseudo-Foundation, and now you're already in Arc II: Inner Expansion after only—”

  “—a training session with Elder Ji,” he said, cutting in again.

  They all fell silent after that, the atmosphere thick with unspoken thoughts.

  That was when Elder Ji, zily waving his hand, called out, “Han Ye! Since you're already in Arc II, you're going to act as a temporary instructor for the others—”

  “Elder… where are our seniors?” one of the disciples asked nervously, clearly terrified that Han Ye would take the same brutal instructor role as before.

  “The seniors? Ah…” Elder Ji blinked, scratched his head, then waved dismissively. “They’re… traveling the world and… some of them have left the sect entirely.”

  The disciples gasped.

  “But don’t worry,” he continued, with his usual unconcerned face. “A few of them decided to remain loyal to our little Archer Sect.”

  Han Ye gnced sideways. That wasn’t the full truth, he could feel it. After his awakening and the strange mark that had changed on his hand, he started noticing more than he should. The world didn’t feel the same. The Qi around him shimmered faintly. His perception had heightened to the point where even the lies people told gave off a different ‘color’ in his senses.

  Still, he kept quiet.

  He then became the stand-in instructor, and although most of the disciples were terrified of his previous teaching methods, Han Ye had no choice but to accept the job handed to him by Elder Ji.

  Just before Han Ye began giving instructions, a faint voice echoed in his mind through Qi sense.

  "We’ll talk after this session is over," Elder Ji said, his tone unusually serious.

  Han Ye gnced over at Elder Ji, who looked as casual as ever on the outside. Yet their eyes met, and Han Ye gave a slight nod in silent agreement.

  He turned back to the gathered disciples, their faces already paling as they saw him step forward with a straight posture, arms folded behind his back, and a sharp gaze that contrasted the sleepy demeanor he wore yesterday. The disciples gulped but sat cross-legged, ready to begin.

  As they followed the Shadow Gale Breathing, Han Ye observed them carefully, correcting postures and Qi flow with an unnerving level of precision. It wasn’t just that he knew what he was doing—his instincts seemed beyond human. Almost every correction he made immediately improved the disciple’s absorption rate, and some even felt their bottlenecks loosen slightly.

  Lan Ji, watching from the side, whispered to Xue Lian, “Okay, maybe he is a genius… or a demon teacher.”

  Xue Lian nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Or both.”

  But Han Ye himself wasn’t focused on their opinions.

  Even as he instructed the group, part of his mind lingered on what Elder Ji had said… and on the book tied to his waist. It had been quiet—too quiet. He could still feel its presence, but not a single whisper had come from it all day. It was almost as if it was… waiting.

  ‘For what?’ he wondered. ‘For me to sleep again? Or… for something worse?’

  By the time the session ended, most of the disciples looked like they had just survived a battlefield, sweating and shaking—but also, undeniably stronger.

  Elder Ji yawned from his shaded spot under the tree. “Haaah… good enough. Dismissed.”

  The disciples scrambled away like frightened rabbits.

  Han Ye stayed where he was, walking calmly toward the elder, who was now zily waving his hand to clear a space next to him.

  “Sit,” Elder Ji said, eyes still closed.

  Han Ye sat down without a word.

  Then Elder Ji opened one eye, sharp and alert behind his usual sleepy expression.

  "Now... tell me. What happened to your hand? And what is that book you're carrying?"

  "My hand? What hand, Elder Ji?" Han Ye replied, his voice shaking and eyes wide with fear.

  "The bck markings on your arm. What are they? And where did they go?"

  "Uh… well, this..."

  "Answer honestly, Han Ye. Or your blood will decorate this ground."

  "A-Alright, sir. Actually... this mark came from the book."

  Han Ye slowly reached for the book hanging at his waist and held it out. As his fingers touched it, Elder Ji stepped back ten paces and drew a short dagger, already infused with his Qi, holding it in a reverse grip as his eyes locked onto the object.

  The book’s cover looked ordinary—worn leather, small in size, and deceptively thin. Nothing out of pce.

  “What kind of book is that?” Elder Ji asked, his voice tense, weapon raised.

  “Oh, this is the Book of ________,” Han Ye said in a ft, hollow voice—completely unlike his usual self.

  “What did you say?” Elder Ji narrowed his eyes.

  “This is the Book of ________,” Han Ye repeated, but this time, his tone rippled through the air.

  The world twisted.

  Reality itself warped—colors dimmed, the sky flickered, the wind froze in pce.

  Suddenly, a glowing energy arrow shot straight at Han Ye’s forehead from behind.

  His head spun 180 degrees with a sickening crack before his body colpsed, unconscious.

  Reality snapped back.

  The twisted air stilled. Colors returned. Wind blew once more.

  From the shadows—despite it still being midday—stepped Elder Jian Meng, his ornate bow humming with residual Qi energy.

  “Elder Ji, is it safe?” Elder Meng asked, cautiously watching Han Ye's still body.

  “Oh, just barely,” Elder Ji muttered, exhaling deeply. “Even I, in Arc IV, felt a chill crawl down my spine.”

  The moment the words left Han Ye’s mouth—"This is the Book of ________"—his mind shattered.

  Not physically.

  But his consciousness was ripped from the world.

  One instant he stood before Elder Ji… the next, he was falling.

  Falling through a void darker than space, where time didn’t exist, and gravity was a myth. There was no light—except from his own body, flickering weakly like a dying candle.

  Then suddenly—he nded.

  Not on the ground.

  On thoughts.

  He stood atop a vast ndscape of floating knowledge: equations spun like gaxies, concepts spiraled in fractal forms, and ancient nguages—some human, some definitely not—whispered to him in distorted harmony. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a vision. It was the library of the cursed.

  The book hadn’t just taught him.

  It had linked him.

  To something far, far older.

  A towering figure loomed in the distance. Not a person—more like an outline made of questions, shadows, and swirling ink. A face that shifted with every blink. A voice that didn’t speak, but thought directly into his mind.

  "___________"

  Han Ye tried to scream but couldn’t move his mouth.

  He tried to close his eyes but had no eyelids.

  He realized—this wasn’t a pce. It was him. He was inside his own mind, but twisted, invaded, rewritten.

  The mark on his arm began to glow in this realm, expanding, branching like roots through his chest and neck.

  And with it came—knowledge.

  Various knowledge entered Han Ye's mind as well as qi techniques such as how to absorb qi, how to release it, how to refine qi, and so on. This made Han Ye's mental state almost colpse because of the various branches of knowledge that entered Han Ye's mind at the same time.

  Hunger. Curiosity. Obsession.

  Hunger. Curiosity. Obsession.

  Hunger. Curiosity. Obsession.

  Hunger. Curiosity. Obsession.

  ....

  it's been 6 years 5 months 10 days (how does he know the time? he counts the time in that pce where time changes anytime and maybe one of the knowledge that was forced into his mind is still useful) trapped in his mind or somewhere else? he doesn't care.

  Han Ye gritted his teeth and forced his mind to pull back.

  He didn’t care about the knowledge anymore.

  He didn’t care about the book.

  He just wanted to be free.

  And then a crack. Reality reasserting itself.

  Darkness colpsed.

  And he was gone from the mind-realm.